


Re-constructing the Iron Curtain

by kurokali



Category: DC Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, DC universe - Freeform, Marvel Universe, Mash-up, Multi, Soviet Union, Supers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:44:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3835738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurokali/pseuds/kurokali
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternate universe, the Cold War never ended.  In the Soviet Union, a new generation of supers is being assembled by the country's greatest heroine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let's Play a Game

The girl sat quietly in the waiting area, her grey eyes focused on the heavy steel door that led back to the "testing area." She had watched several others go through the door during the time she'd been here, and none who'd returned had said anything about what had happened. They were escorted out so quickly that there was never time to _reach_ for any answers, and so she still had no clue as to why she was here. She knew better than to ask, of course. If the government wanted her here, there must be a reason, and that would have to be be good enough for her. If she tried to cause any difficulties, who knew what might happen? It could cost her father his position as Head Chemist at the University back home in Bucharest, or worse.

  
At least they'd fed her. A stern young woman (who knew nothing about all this) had come by about an hour ago with bowls of potato soup and crusty brown bread. The girl and her two remaining companions in the waiting area had all eaten in relative silence.

"It's not bad," the oldest of them had remarked. He was balding, probably in his early 50s, with thick glasses and a broad smile which rarely seemed to leave his face. "Better than I could make, anyway." His accent seemed strange to the girl's ears, used to the rolling and melodic sound of Romanian language, and she could not place it.

The other diner, a young woman no more than 25, dipped her bread in the soup as she nodded agreement. "I wonder if we'll get any other meals while we're here..." Her accent was much more refined than the man's and sounded much more familiar to the girl. The woman was no doubt from a city here in Russia. Leningrad, perhaps, or maybe she was even from here in Moscow. The girl had only been in Russia a couple of times before now, so many of the dialects all sounded the same to her, with their harsh Slavic consonants, so different from the eliding vowels of her own mother tongue.

The woman, Ekaterina Ferdorovna, was called back just as the group finished eating. She was gone the shortest amount of time of anyone who'd been summoned to the back room--less than 10 minutes later, Ekaterina had been led out by one of the large, uniformed men who seemed to exist solely to escort out the returnees. Once again, they were gone so quickly that the girl had no time to try and find out what had happened in the other room.

Pavel, the man with the unidentifiable accent, went back next, leaving the girl alone. The room felt empty now, and she wished (not for the first time) that she had something to occupy her mind. She'd tried playing the mathematics games that her father had taught her, but even that normally calming activity had frayed at her already-ragged nerves until she found herself summing the same set of numbers over and over again, never remembering the answer she'd just arrived at.

Pavel have been in the back room quite a while now--over half an hour--and the girl found herself wondering if Pavel was who or what these people were looking for. Maybe he was, and they'd let her go home. If she caught a train soon, she could be home by Saturday.

Just then, the steel door clanked open and Pavel was escorted out by one of the number of indistinguishable, unsmiling guards. Pavel was smiling, either, as he was led toward the exit. The girl decided to attempt to get something from him, but as she _reached_ , she heard something that jolted her back to herself.

"Zsuzsanna Tîrgoviște," the flat voice said, only somewhat butchering the name. Looking up, Zsuzsanna saw the same long-faced man who'd called back everyone else who'd been sitting in the room with her.

Zsuzsanna stood slowly, wishing that she hadn't eaten that potato soup, as it was threatening to reappear now. Her only comfort was that no one who'd returned from the mysterious back room seemed injured, and she'd counted to be sure that everyone who went through the steel door had returned. As no one was unaccounted for, perhaps it was safe to assume that she'd eventually be allowed to leave, as well.

Zsuzsanna followed the dour-looking man back through the heavy steel door.  She wasn't entirely sure what she'd been expecting to see waiting when she finally stepped through the doorway, but what she saw was surprisingly non-intimidating. There was a row of doors to her left, some opened, some closed. The open doors revealed nondescript offices with plain wooden desks and chairs, and an occasional computer. The main part of the room was open, and it honestly looked like a fancy lounge or sitting room. There were some comfortable looking couches and low tables and a large, ornate rug that covered much of the gray tile floor. The right-hand side of the room had three large bay windows that each showed an empty room containing a table and two chairs. It was to one of these rooms that the man led her, all without a word of explanation.

"Sit down," he instructed, gesturing to the dark blue plastic chair at the far side of the table. He turned and left the room before Zsuzsanna had a chance to react to his direction. The man shut the door behind him, and Zsuzsanna was willing to bet that the door was locked. Seeing no other options, she sat and waited.

After a few minutes, the door opened again. This time the white coat-clad man was one who was taller, with a close-trimmed clack beard and a warm smile.

"Good afternoon, Comrade Zsuzsanna," he greeted her, sitting down across from her. In his hand, he held a deck of cards, which he set on the table between them. "I am Doctor Alexonov. I suppose you are wondering why we've asked you to be here?"

Zsuzsanna nodded. "Da, Comrade Doctor," she replied.

The doctor smiled again. "I understand, truly. I sincerely regret that we must do things this way. Unfortunately, because of the nature of our research, we must maintain a certain level of secrecy." He spread his hands imploringly. "I hope that you will forgive us our mysterious actions."

"What research?" Zsuzsanna asked with curiosity.

Doctor Alexonov chuckled. "We'll get to that, Comrade. Let us first play a little game, hm?" He gestured to the cards he'd brought in with him.  

This was not what Zsuzsanna had expected. Her confusion had no doubt registered on her face. The doctor laid three of the cards in a row face down on the table between him and her. "Two of these cards are the same," he told her. "One is different."

Zsuzsanna blinked at the doctor in confusion. "And...?" she prompted.

"I want you to pick the two that match," he continued. "Tell me which two of the three match, without looking."

Alarms were sounding in her head. Zsuzsanna looked up at Alexonov, startled. His eyes, behind the thick-rimmed black glasses he wore, were fixed on her, waiting. Was this a trick? Did the doctor want her to pass or fail this test--the "game," as he'd referred to it--for Zsuzsanna had no doubt that this was, in fact, some sort of test. The only question was how to answer properly.

She decided to take him at his word. Closing her eyes, she focused. Slowly, an image came to her. The first card, the left-most one, was a circle, while the other two cards each bore a pair of wavy lines. Zsuzsanna opened her eyes again and pointed at the center and right cards. "Those two."

Alexonov's eyebrows raised slightly. "Let the record show," he said aloud, "that Comrade Zsuzsanna has chosen the second and third cards." He flipped all three cards over in sequence, revealing their faces. "And those two cards do, in fact, match."

It was at this point that Zsuzsanna realized that she was being recorded as well as watched. Why else would the doctor have repeated her choice and the outcome aloud?

"Very good, Comrade," Alexonov praised her. "Let's try again, da?" This time, four cards were laid out. "Two pairs. Can you find them?"

Zsuzsanna closed her eyes and again the answer came to her. "The first and last match, as do the middle two," she answered, her eyes still closed.

"Once again, the comrade is correct," Alexonov stated. When Zsuzsanna opened her eyes, the cards had been flipped, revealing triangle-square-square-triangle. The doctor was watching her more closely now. "Interesting..." he murmured.

Zsuzsanna "played" the next four rounds, never once missing. Finally, Doctor Alexonov laid the last four cards out on the table. When Zsuzsanna closed her eyes, she was confused. She saw a pair of circles, a triangle, and a pair of wavy lines. Was that right? Was this some new trick?

"There's...only one pair..." she finally said, hesitantly. She pointed to the second and fourth cards. "The other two don't match."

Alexonov was silent as he overturned the cards, revealing that Zsuzsanna was once again correct. There was the pair of circles, just as she'd seen, along with the card of wavy lines and the triangle card. Zsuzsanna nodded to herself, glad to see that she'd spotted the trick after all.

Alexonov peered at Zsuzsanna more closely still, making her feel awkward. "How did you know that?"

Zsuzsanna widened her grey eyes innocently. "You asked me to play this game, Comrade Doctor," she said. "Wasn't I supposed to answer your questions?"

"No one has gotten this far before," he told her, glancing above her head. Zsuzsanna turned to follow his gaze and saw for the first time the camera that she'd already known was recording her. "This is unexpected."

Zsuzsanna looked back at Alexonov, who was somewhat flushed with excitement. "Does this mean that we're done, Comrade Doctor? May I go home now?"  

Alexonov didn't answer her. He stood and headed for the door.

"Comrade Doctor?"

"Stay here for just a moment, please, Comrade Zsuzsanna," Alexonov requested as he left the room. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Zsuzsanna alone in the room once more, with little choice but to abide by his request. She fought the urge to look up at the camera again. What was going on?

Doctor Alexonov walked quickly down the hallway toward the nerve center of the project. He was excited, but he wasn't yet sure how invested he should allow himself to become. This could very well be the breakthrough that they'd been waiting for, but they couldn't risk jumping the gun and alerting the commander just yet--not until they were sure that this Zsuzsanna was, in fact, the genuine article. They'd had bad luck in the past with anticipating success with a candidate only to be severely disappointed. The commander had made it clear after the last failure that he didn't want to be bothered with anything less than a certainty from here on out.

Reaching the locked door near the end of the room, Alexonov knocked quickly before letting himself in with his keycard. Two men in uniform flanked a seated woman who was busily watching a bank of monitors. At the moment, only the camera in Room 2, the room in which he'd left the Romanian girl, showed anything of interest.

"You've been watching?" Alexonov asked the woman.

She looked up and smiled. "Of course," she replied. "I must say, I'm rather impressed with this one, Comrade Ilya."

"As am I," Alexonov agreed. "But I have to be absolutely certain before I alert the commander."

The woman nodded. "Da, of course. Why not try something harder to guess?" she suggested.

Alexonov frowned slightly in confusion. "Such as?" he asked.

"Something about yourself, perhaps," she hinted. "Something that a young woman from Romania should have no way of knowing under normal circumstances."

The doctor nodded. "Da, Mamushka Irina...this is a good idea. I will try it." He headed back for the door, eager for his next round of experimentation.

"Oh, Comrade Ilya?" the woman called after him. He turned. "Try not to scare her, da? She's only a child, whatever else she might be."

Alexonov nodded. "Da, Mamushka." He did not remind her that the girl might also be exactly what they'd been looking for--in which case, she'd be expected to forfeit her right to being "just a child."

 


	2. Mother Russia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zsuzsanna learns why she's been brought here, and she meets a hero of the Motherland.

     When Alexonov returned, Zsuzsanna stood up, her eyes locked on the door. They were wide with nervous anticipation.

     "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long, Comrade Zsuzsanna," Alexonov said in a soothing tone. "Please, come sit back down." He resumed his own seat and waited for the girl to follow suit. After a few tense moments, she did so. "Good." He smiled across the table at her, trying to seem reassuring and non-threatening. "Let us talk," he began. "As I told you earlier, I am Doctor Ilya Alexonov. I'm from a small town near Moscow.” He paused. “Can you tell me about my family? My wife and children?”

     Zsuzsanna stared at him silently for a long moment. Perhaps if she played dumb, they'd send her home as they had the others. Then again, the doctor had seemed so excited with her earlier that he might become angry if she stopped now... Finally, she decided not to risk lying. As long as she was honest, she had a better chance of getting through all this...she hoped.

     Closing her eyes, she _reached_ for any clues she could find. There was a woman, pretty, blonde...and a boy who appeared to be a few years younger than Zsuzsanna herself. There were several strong images—birthdays, vacations, sleepless nights of sickness—but in all of them, there was only one child, from infancy to now. She hoped that this wasn't a sore spot for Alexonov.

     “Your wife is blonde and small...very pretty. She smiles a lot. Your son is blond, too, but his hair is starting to get darker.” She glanced up at the doctor, who was staring at her in apparent disbelief. “He is your only child, da?”

     Alexonov's eyes flicked up to the camera mounted behind Zsuzsanna, his eyebrows raised in a silent question. “Da...” he finally responded. “How do you know that?” he asked, his attention now riveted on Zsuzsanna.

     She bit her lower lip. Now it would come out. She had to hope that Doctor Alexonov liked what he heard. “I...I know because you know...” she began hesitantly. “I can see them as you see them.”

     “How?” Alexonov demanded.

     “I don't know, exactly...it's like reaching into a dark closet and seeing what I can pull out.” She tried to make it make more sense for him. “If I know what I'm looking for, I can find it more easily.”

     Alexonov had begun scribbling furiously on his notepad. “How long have you been able to do this?” he asked.

     Zsuzsanna pondered for a moment. “Since I was around nine or so, I think,” she replied. “I don't remember exactly when it started.”

     “And this is how you knew what order the cards were in?”

     “Da. I can only see what someone else has seen or heard,” Zsuzsanna clarified. “I can't look at a book, for example, and know what it says. But if someone else has read the book, I can see it in their mind, if I know to look for it.”

     Alexonov nodded encouragingly. “Do you have to be near the person?”

     Zsuzsanna shook her head. “Not necessarily. It's easier if I'm closer, but not absolutely necessary.”

     “What about someone you can't see?”

     “No...I have to be able to know exactly who I'm looking for. It has to be focused.”

     Just then, the door opened and in walked an older woman, perhaps the same age as Zsuzsanna's father. The woman was smiling. Her chestnut brown hair had the beginning of grey streaks , but she carried herself lightly and seemed very fit and energetic for a woman somewhat past middle age. She looked very familiar to Zsuzsanna, though she couldn't quite place the recognition.

     “I think we have enough proof, Comrade Doctor. Wouldn't you agree?” she said.

     Alexonov nodded. “Da, Mamushka.”

     It suddenly clicked for Zsuzsanna. She _had_ seen the woman before, though never in person. She appeared throughout the Union in films, magazines, newspapers, and posters. She was arguably the most famous Russian on earth, other than the Premier. “Mother Russia?” Zsuzsanna asked, already knowing she was right.

     The woman's smile grew wider. “Da, my dear. I've been watching you, and I must say that I am very impressed with what I've seen so far.” Mother Russia came around the table and patted Zsuzsanna on the hand. “I know that we've made everything very confusing and probably a bit frightening, as well. I'm sorry for that, but we have our orders, of course.”

     "What sort of orders?” Zsuzsanna asked nervously. She wasn't even sure that she expected an answer, but the idea of someone like Mother Russia having orders concerning her was both befuddling and nerve-wracking. “Am I in trouble?”

     “No, no, not at all,” Mother Russia was quick to assure her. “We are merely interested in what you are capable of—and how it might be used to help the Motherland.”

     Zsuzsanna looked blankly at Mother Russia and Dr. Alexonov. “Me?” she asked, her tone one of complete disbelief. “I'm only 14...what could I possibly do?”

     Mother Russia hugged Zsuzsanna around the shoulders. “I was not much older than you are now when I began my training, you know.” Zsuzsanna looked up at her skeptically and she nodded. “Da. It was hard to get used to, but I knew that I was doing my part to help our nation.”

     Zsuzsanna shook her head. “ No...I mean, how could I do anything? I'm not special like you or the Red Son.”

     “That is where you're wrong,” Mother Russia corrected her gently. “You may not have our physical attributes, but you do have a gift that few could imagine.” She gestured for Zsuzsanna to stand. “For some time now, we've been seeking talent to reinvigorate our Iron Curtain program.” Mother Russia walked out of the room, indicating that she wanted Zsuzsanna to follow. “We've lost a few operatives over the years, and while the Red Son is still in peak condition, I'm not as young as I once was.” The two walked back toward the lounge area, while Alexonov went off in search of one of the commander's aides.

     “It is important that we have young people who are ready and able to take up the watch for the Motherland,” Mother Russia continued. “Young people like you, not to put too fine a point on it.” She sat on one of the richly upholstered couches and patted the cushion next to her in invitation.

     Zsuzsanna sat, her mind still working to understand what was happening to her. Mother Russia—heroine of the Soviets—was inviting _her_ to join the Iron Curtain?

     “Your father, I believe, works for the University system?” Mother Russia asked. Zsuzsanna nodded. “Then you are already at least somewhat familiar with the noble calling of public service. This is good.”  
“Mother Russia--”

     “Please, call me Mamushka Irina.”

     “Da, Mamushka Irina...I don't know if I'm right for this. It's not that I don't want to serve the Motherland, but...I just don't think that I can do the sorts of things that you've done.”

     Irina chuckled. “That is not exactly what we're asking of you, Zsuzsanna. We don't need more assassins or snipers, not now. Moreover, we can train you—or anyone, really—to fight and kill. There will be times where we may call on you to do just that. But we can never train someone else to do what comes so naturally to you.” She smiled at the young woman beside her. “Do you know, we have interviewed over 25,000 potential candidates for this role? Out of 25,000, we had only a handful of hopefuls. People who showed a glimmer of talent, of ability. Of that handful, none passed the final round of cards...except you.” She let this revelation sink in for a moment. “Only you,” she emphasized. “We had every palm reader and psychic on the continent come through this facility. None were genuine. But you, on the other hand, can do more than we anticipated finding.”

     Zsuzsanna felt simultaneously flattered and frightened. It didn't sound as though the Iron Curtain was giving her much of a choice. A thought occurred to her. “How _did_ you find me? I've never told anyone about this, not even my family.”

     Mother Russia seemed amused. “Do you remember taking a test a few months ago? This test would have had some strange questions on it that did not seem to make sense.”

     Zsuzsanna knew instantly what she meant. “Da. A state proctor gave the test at my school this spring. There were questions about things I'd never heard of.” She looked slightly abashed.  
  
     “You used the proctor's answer key, didn't you?” Mother Russia prompted gently. Zsuzsanna nodded, looking embarrassed. “Don't feel bad. You did just what we wanted. We'd hoped to find some student or students with your sort of ability who would be clever and driven enough to find a way to use the answer key to answer those questions.” She gave Zsuzsanna an approving smile. “You certainly aren't in any trouble.”

     That was some small relief to Zsuzsanna, who had been terribly frustrated by questions like “what is the 12th largest city in Madagascar?” and “who was the third person to break the sound barrier after Charles Yeager?” It had been a desperation maneuver, driven by her long-instilled desire to maintain her perfect grades, when she'd _reached_ for the proctor—lo and behold, he had the answer sheet in front of him.

    “We sent that test to several regions of the Union. About forty or so students answered those questions correctly. As we investigated, some sneaked to the library, and some just knew these things—or guessed. So far as we've been able to surmise, you're the only one who used a psychic ability to find the answers, Mother Russia elaborated. “Some of the sneakier ones have since been recruited by other branches, such as espionage—but you belong here with us.”

     That statement brought Zsuzsanna's anxiety back to the forefront. The longer she stayed here, the less likely it seemed that she'd be allowed to just leave and go home.

     Her concern must have shown on her face, because Mother Russia put an arm around her shoulders. “Don't worry—you are safe here.” An idea seemed to occur to her. “Come. Would you like to meet the others?”

     “Others?” Zsuzsanna repeated in confusion. “I thought you said that I was the only one...”

     “The only psychically gifted one we've found, da. But we have other talented young people who've recently joined the Iron Curtain, as well.” She stood and headed toward the back of the room, toward an elevator door Zsuzsanna hadn't noticed before. “Come along,” Irina instructed. “Comrade Doctor Alexonov will find us when he's ready for you again.” She took a key from where it hung around her neck and inserted it into the control panel of the elevator. After a quarter turn of the key, a red light blinked on and the doors parted silently. Zsuzsanna stepped onto the elevator and watched as Mother Russia used the same key to send the elevator down.

     “You will like them, I think,” Irina said as the elevator descended. “You and I are the only ladies for now, I'm afraid. But we're hopeful that Natasha will be returning soon. She's a bit older than you, but I think you will get along well.”

     The elevator slowed, then stopped, and Irina had to use her key once again to get the doors to open.  "Welcome to our home," she said.

 


End file.
